


Our love through the rainbow

by MissOlineaux



Category: Helix Waltz (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for Balfey's route
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-26 00:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20732915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissOlineaux/pseuds/MissOlineaux
Summary: Of friendship, love and learning our true colours





	1. Little truths in purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purple is a really dignified colour, which symbolises the mind and is also used to display one's nobility...

She didn't hear the footsteps behind her but she heard the soft click of the balcony door when it closed behind the newly arrived guest.

"Sister Ellenstein?" 

The soft chirping voice startled the blonde, now wearing a purple wig, from her own thoughts. She quickly recomposed herself and made a light courtesy with her usual trained smile.

"Signorino Balfey, how could I help you?"

The boy had a look of uncertainty in his face. Even though they had kept being friends despite the awkward confession thanks to both their light-heartedness, she had the feeling that not everything was exactly the same, as if he had turned a little bit more serious. But perhaps that was just her impression.

"What's your favourite colour?"

Though unexpected, that was an easy question, she had already answered it a thousand times, even though with different answers depending on the people. So she didn't hesitate, she knew what would make her win his favour.

"Black, of course."

His face though didn't change into his usual smile. None of the usual sentences coming from his lips. He stared at her eyes directly during barely a fraction of a second, despite the distance between them, before he let out a sigh which was more of tiredness than frustration. But of course, he couldn't get frustrated, even less at Her. Like... Ever.

"I'm not asking what I want it to be. I've... Ah, that might sound a bit improper, but I've been paying more attention to you lately. On the balls, I mean. I've seen what you do."

Her face fell in shock for a moment, but she was fast to recover. Her mother would have been proud, perhaps. She hurried to answer innocently, expecting it to be easy to fool someone like him.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Lord Balfey."

But even though her voice didn't waver, her eyes did, if only for a second, and the male, who had barely moved from the door since his arrival, wasn't half as idiot as most thought. He didn't mind them thinking so, and he wouldn't take extra measures to prove them otherwise, but he wasn't. As could be seen when he really put the effort into doing something.

He took a couple of steps towards her, placing himself at her side and leaning his back on the balustrade, eyes fixated on the soundproofed glass door.

"There's only us here, Sister. That's what allows me to be so honest. I wouldn't put you through any kind of danger, ever. You should know that. There are few to none things I wouldn't do for Miss Ellenstein. But please, don't lie to me. I'm not THAT idiot."

He didn't sound annoyed, more as if he was talking matter-of-factly. She tried her best not to chuckle, but a soft smile appeared on her lips, being quickly matched by the boy's lips tilting upwards. He was right, she knew she could trust him, he had proved that much. Plus, he didn't deserve being lied to.

"Purple."

She said after a while of silence, figuring that he wouldn't add anything further on the matter. He didn't seem anywhere close to anger or disappointment, so that was good, right? No matter how much he had discovered, she somehow knew he meant it, he wouldn't make her face any danger. Be it political, social or otherwise.

Balfey looked back at her, seizing her for a moment, from her purple wig to the sole of her same coloured boots. That was the theme of the day, and obviously the make's favourite. It was also Magda's. But somehow she had never felt like that was a choice to answer when someone asked her favourite colour.

"You don't mean that"

He said, even though there was a clear doubt on his voice. It wasn't an accusation, not really, and there was a tilt of hope in the middle of the doubtfulness. Magda felt somewhat cheered at seeing such an expression. As if her real opinion also had some worth.

"I do! Well, that might be a bit unfair. I actually like any shade from blue to eggplant purple. I also like some shades of green. And I DO like black. And... What?"

For a while now, Balfey had been trying really hard not to burst out laughing, but Magda could notice his giggles anyways. Hadn't she been properly trained and on a formal ball, that would have made her pout.

"Miss Magda, I would NOT like to question your knowledge on shades, but could you please enlighten me? What is supposed to be eggplant purple?"

She felt her cheeks redden a bit, though she found herself giggling along, specially seeing him talk in such a flourished way which, despite his monodramas, was not usual from the Purple boy. His laughter was really contagious now that she thought about it. All his happiness was. Perhaps that was the reason why she was so calm despite having been found out.

"It exists! I think... I mean if there's Apple green, why shouldn't there be Eggplant purple?"

At that point, the Olineaux opened his eyes widely, as if he had just been enlightened by a huge realization.

"I can't compete with your logic, Sister Ellenstein. That would be too foolish, even for me. Was it or not, from now on Eggplant purple is a colour."

She laughed. Not the prude little giggle even though it started as one, not a chuckle, a wholehearted laughter. She couldn't quite explain why, perhaps for the sentence itself, or the puffed chest, or the seriousness of the stupid statement, but somehow, it didn't feel wrong to keep laughing. Not when he was laughing soon after.

Once she stopped, she felt her breath slightly out, her cheeks reddish and a lightness and warmth through all her body. She felt calm, happy, safe. It was the first time in a really long time since she hadn't feared being judged by her actions. But with such clear, sparkling eyes staring at her like she was the most precious woman on the ball, how could she not feel comfortable? A soft smile spread on her lips, genuine, contempt.

"You can keep saying that your favourite colour is Black, or Green or Blue, or even Red. I would never say otherwise if I hear you doing it. But I'm happy to know the truth. So, from now on... Answer with your heart, alright? At least with me. Please?"

His request, his eyes, the light hopeful tone in his voice, the little questioning tilt in his plead... they were all so honest, so real and pure, that she couldn't help but nod almost instantly.

"I will. Thank you Signorino Balfey... For everything"

By that of course she meant for keeping the secret as well, and cheering her up, and making the night so enjoyable. And making her feel... Real.

"But of course Lady Ellenstein, if I didn't love you for being you, I wouldn't be loving you in the first place. We may have discrepancies some times, but if you think my parents never argue, you are totally wrong. And yet there they are... The happiest couple on the whole Finsel. After all isn't that what we should aim for?"

Magda tried to not think to much on the confession, even though she knew that at some point she'd have to either accept him or straight out tell him she wasn't interested. The thing was... That she wasn't sure whether she was interested or not. Balfey wasn't what one would usually call Husband Material. But he was kind, sweet, lively, lovely, he could cheer her up anytime, he was willing to protect her, had done so more than once, even putting himself through risk. He adored her. And he was real. Perhaps that's why he wasn't perfect. He didn't play the part. He didn't force himself to be someone he wasn't for the sake of being social. Perhaps, after all, that's why he was perfect.

"So, everyone looks for a happy marriage? I mean, that does make sense..."

Balfey smiled at her, yet she could have sworn she had never seen him so serious as when he said:

"No Miss Magda. They look for happiness. That's it. Most of them, though, get lost in the way. In the middle of silks, perfumes, coins and makeup. In questions half answered and rumors and some little bits of truths. They forget, the only way to reach happiness, is by living true to yourself. Because in the end, when you go to sleep at night, it's your own thoughts the ones you have to live with."

She didn't know what to answer, but before she could even think about it he talked again, back to his sheepishly self.

"Now, we should head back. My mother's going to be worried if she doesn't see me for too long." 

She could feel the light caress of a feather like touch on her hair, and then he was gone, disappearing in the middle of dancing bodies, and she was left to her own thoughts. Lost in his last words, and even more confused as to what she felt for that childish, enthusiastic and gentlemanly boy with a golden heart and the purest laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...it just so happens to be the favourite colour of those two.


	2. Red for Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red is the colour of passion, of fire, desire, evil gossip, blood...

Red had been the chosen colour for this ball, passionate and bold. The colour of fire and betrayal and most rumors. The colour of blood. Ironically so, just as a spurn can make a whole fire, a gust of wind is enough to banish it.

When silence reigned throughout the ball, only cut by small whispers of people asking what had happened for everything to turn quiet so suddenly, Magda was quite sure that the noble woman was done for.

She seemed to have realized that as well, as she had completely paled once the words got out of her lips. It wasn't unheard of of people laughing in ushered tones, and not so ushered, about Lord Balfey. But everyone knew that she had gone way too far.

It had been a simple conversation really, but in a not so quiet tone as she had expected. Something about marriage and a comment he once made about how it wasn't as important as people usually thought. And then she had gone and off-handedly said "What would a bastard know about marriage anyways?" And that had been it.

A slip of the tongue, probably, but loud enough for most of the room to hear it. And she could consider herself lucky that Balfey was the only Olineaux there or she'd be socially dead, not that she wouldn't be once the Duke and Duchess found out about it anyways. Calling their son a bastard was going way over the edge, specially taking into account the unfounded rumors and with him there to listen. Of course, she hadn't known that when she had said it. She only realized it when everyone in less than ten meters from her gasped at once looking at the same direction, right behind her. And if looks could kill, she'd be brutally murdered by now.

When the boy opened his mouth, everyone, Magda included, expected him to snap at her in a fit of rage. Despite his gentleness it wasn't something hard to get him angry when talking bad about his family or the people he cared about. One would say that was his weakest spot. But he didn't.

"My apologies sister, I'm sure I heard that wrong."

His voice was gentle as if he had truly meant that, and a soft smile grazed his lips, but that never reached his eyes. So as soon as he left towards the balcony, Magda knew that she had to follow him. Plus, even before that thought started to get into her mind, she was already at the door.

She closed it slowly behind her and approached the boy who was on the balustrade, with both his arms resting there and his gaze seemingly fixated in some point of the gardens. All trace of the former smile washed away from him and clearly lost in thoughts far away from the ball.

"Signorino Balfey?"

She asked tentatively, since he had made no signal on acknowledging her presence. She stood right next to him now, just giving him enough space to breathe. There was a moment of silence that could have gone on forever, but he had not asked her to leave, so she could as well let him know that he wasn't alone. She was about to talk, but as he casted a faint but honest smile and opened his mouth, she thought it'd be better to simply listen this time.

"I see her almost everyday, with a smile of contempt on her lips as she walks through the garden she designed herself. She stops sometimes, to cut a loose leaf or check if there are any insects corrupting the flowers. Everyday I see my mother with shinning eyes and a smile of pure happiness as she walks through our house's garden... She tried to teach me gardening... But that didn't quite work out. She also taught me how to paint, did you know that? From A to Z, how to grind the colours, how to sketch and how to do shades and light. I didn't really learn that either... I didn't really like painting in the first place. But she was there. Whether smiling patiently or sighing exasperatedly. She was there, and that was ours. I didn't take painting as seriously as she expected... I didn't like the seriousness and meticulosity of it all. But I liked spending time with her. Only her."

He flinched, and as Magda placed a comforting hand on top of his back, she could realise the small shinning tears falling from his cheeks.

"She's so smart, so sweet, so strong and kind. The greatest knight Finsel's ever had, and the best mother I could have asked for... And yet... the only thing I can do for her is staring at her happiness through a half opened window without even knowing if she's my mother at all."

And that. She was not expecting that, but as his body started shaking she could only turn him to face her, surrounding his shoulders in a tight hug which he quickly replied to by hiding his face on her own shoulder. Her dress was getting slightly dampened, but Magda couldn't care less about it at the moment. If someone had seen them, that would have been classified as totally improper, but she wasn't going to let him cry alone, not even for the sake of decency. She knew for a fact that he wouldn't, had it been the other way around. So she held him until she felt his breath even once again and he was the first to pull away, cleaning the corner of his eyes with a red handkerchief he carried with him.

"Thank you Sister Ellenstein, I really needed that right now."

He admitted with his cheeks slightly tinted in red and not looking at her but at the tiles of the balcony, yet in his lips rested a contempt subtle smile.

She placed a hand on his head and stroked his hair only once, gently, before letting her arm drop to her side.

"You're welcome Lord Balfey."

He gave her a light smile, to which she replied with one of her own, and went back to staring into the cold night. Magda rested her own arms on the balustrade, staring with him into the darkness under them, even if she wasn't sure of what they were looking at in the first place. It was surprisingly comfortable. As if they were in a bubble of their own and not on a balcony of someone else's house with a ball going on just five steps behind them through closed doors.

"Balfey?"

If he had been bothered by the lack of a preposition he didn't look like it. Instead speaking with a voice that reflected the same tranquility that the woman was feeling at that moment.

"Yes, Miss Magda?"

She thought it over, knowing how that was a sensitive topic for him. She wanted to ask it, felt like she had to even. But she didn't want to make him upset now that he seemed a bit better. In the end, though, she realised she couldn't really keep quiet now that she already had his attention.

"Do you really not know it?"

At seeing the confused frown on Balfey's face she decided to add:

"If she's your mother. You... You really don't know it?"

She didn't ask to gain intel, even though she knew that he would willingly trust in her for such a thing. That would have been way to cruel for someone who definitely didn't deserve that. She wasn't even sure of what would change one way or another. But she wanted to know the answer.

Balfey took a deep breath, doubt, sadness and insecurity crossing his eyes as clearly as water. Yet he spoke. Perhaps only because it was Magda making the question, and he knew that she wouldn't judge him. Or at least he wanted to believe that with all his heart.

"I don't. She doesn't know how insecure I am about it. But it's not like I'm deaf anyways... I try to cope with it, I know how cruel nobles can be when they want to, and I know that to them is just a way of entertainment. But I can't help it from getting under my skin. I really wish I could simply ignore it, but I can't. And... I'm afraid of asking. Really, really afraid. Because... what if she gets offended? Or if she thinks it's a stupid worry? Or gets upset? Or ... What if she isn't? I'd rather not know."

Magda listened to him until she saw him looking back down towards the garden. As he talked, he always more or less glanced towards where she was, so she knew that meant he was done speaking. Her voice did not waver as she said:

"I can't agree with that."

The boy straightened himself up looking at her clearly surprised. It wasn't usual for her to say that she disagreed with someone. Not that he had seen at least. And let's be honest, if there was someone who never failed to make him have a change of heart, that was Miss Ellenstein.

"Why not?"

"Because... She chose you. Whether you have the same blood or not, it was her choice to raise you and love you as her son. She is a really proud mother, you know? And she always tells me how she wishes she spent more time with you and Hugh. She loves you, Balfey. What does it matter if your blood is the same or not? If she is your mother, that's settled and you can rest in peace without letting those... Those... Idiots get under your skin. And EVEN if she isn't, you will know that she chose YOU, she chose to love you. And she DOES love you. Wouldn't you like to ease your mind? And if it's something that's really bothering you, I don't think she'd see it as something stupid. If something, she would feel bad for knowing that you kept from her something that was hurting you. So, isn't it worth it? The truth?"

He didn't answer. He kept so still that she could have thought he hadn't been listening to her at all. Except for the fact that it was Balfey, and of course he would listen to anything Miss Ellenstein said. Yet the silence continued for a while still. Until he took a step away from the balustrade and looked at her with decision in his eyes.

"Got it. But I'm going to need Miss Magda's help."

At that, the girl couldn't help but smile widely.

"But of course Signorino Balfey. Are we not a team?"

And as the young noble mimicked her smile, she couldn't help but feel that everything was going to work out just fine. Because of course they were a team, and they never failed when they were together. They wouldn't fail this time.

"The Mission "Find out if I'm my mother's son" is starting! And... We probably should look for a better name... Uhm... Should I go to your house tomorrow morning? It'd be better if we don't discuss such matters at my house. And I'm not sure if I'd actually be able to just walk to her and ask... No, I'm quite certain I wouldn't be able to do that."

Magda nodded in understanding.

"Don't worry. Tomorrow morning, in my house. We'll come up with a good way of asking her. And let's call it... Mission Blue. For... Well, the Blue Blood of nobility?"

"Deal!"

And as she saw the huge, cheerful grin in Balfey's face, she could be just certain that Yes. It was definitely going to work out well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... but passion doesn't have to be something bad, it might give you just the little push you need to stand   
up for what you believe in.


	3. Small Sparkles of Yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yellow is the colour of happiness and innocent, starting love...

To say that Balfey Olineaux was nervous was a complete understatement.

He took a deep breath as he stared intently at the Ellenstein’s door as if only by his gaze it would open, way too anxious to actually ring the bell. Lucky for him though, the only butler in that house happened to chose that moment to open the door, looking quite surprised to see the Purple boy standing there without making himself announced to anyone on the household.

He was led inside, to the living room, where Madam Ellenstein sat reading a book, Magda nowhere to be seen. Apparently, her mother had either forgotten or not been warned about his visit, as she looked visibly surprised of seeing him there. The woman soon ordered her maid to warn Magda about the visit and engaged in some light conversation with the Olineaux heir while he waited.

The young Ellenstein didn't take long to get downstairs, in a bright yellow dress that remainded him of the colour of sunflowers. It wasn't purple, yet to his eyes, she was wonderful and radiant as always. He wondered, just for a moment, when exactly had she become so breath-takingly beautiful.

A wide smile on her lips and a look of decisiveness shone in her eyes as she skipped the last steps —Much to her mother's clear disapproval— while saying:

“Let’s go, Lord Balfey, we have a plan to make and a mission to accomplish!”

And of course, as expected, he found himself smiling, forgetting all his previous anxiousness and following her towards the garden.

It was a really small place, compared to his own garden, but that was only to be expected. And there was something certainly satisfying in walking through a small garden next to Miss Ellenstein. Now that he noticed it, the way her natural golden hair shone with the sun rays, and how they reflected on her dress... he got to the conclusion that his previous judgement had been wrong. She didn't resemble a sunflower, she was the whole sun itself. Lively, shinning, radiant. And maybe she had been beautiful all along and he simply had been to blinded at first to realize it.

But of course, Balfey wouldn’t dare to dream that what he was feeling, that fluttering sensation in his stomach, the happiness, and calmness he felt, as if nothing could go wrong as long as they were together... was anywhere close to how she felt about him. And yet, the soft expression in her eyes turning towards him, the sweet smile on her lips, as she stopped by a white wooden table, fixing her skirt to sit down, could almost hint to a small sparkle of something more than plain friendship.

The young Olineaux sat down in front of her, as if he had suddenly remembered why they were meeting in the first place. He still kept his light smile, though, which was already proof enough of how relaxed he truly was even in such a crucial moment for him.

“So, first of all I want to make sure that she doesn’t take it the wrong way.”

He started, going surprisingly straight to business. Balfey might not have looked like it, but he wasn’t fond of idle chatter on important conversations, and even less when there was something important at stake. He might not have been the most serious person out there, but he could focus on important tasks when needed. There would be time later to talk about anything else.

Magda nodded in understanding, her mind already starting to plot how to ensure that.

"Well, the first step then would be making her feel relaxed and at ease. She likes her garden right? You said your mother looks happy when she's there. So maybe using one of those little moments would be a good idea. If she feels comfortable and in a safe and calm environment she will be less likely to jump into negative assumptions."

Balfey nodded along, not even noticing when the maid brought a small tray with cookies and tea. And him not noticing food was a clear signal of just how focused he was at that moment.

"Right, so I take her to the garden, we have some mother/son time and once she's relaxed I ask her? That seems... Easy. Kind of."

Magda picked up her cup of tea giving it a small sip before adding:

"You should also make sure that she doesn't have more troubles in her mind at that moment. We don't want her to feel bad about it. So make sure that she knows you see her as a great mother, no matter what."

Balfey nodded once more. Even though he knew that it wouldn't be half as easy as Magda made it sound, just hearing her gave him some confidence. He took a deep breath before sipping on his own tea, reaching out a hand to pick a cookie yet stopping halfway.

"So... What do I do if she's not my mother? Even if... Even if the situation is perfect, what happens if her answer isn't?"

Magda stared into her cup for a moment, trying to find the right words. If he wasn't Christie's son.. well, that kind of hit close to home for her.

"What does it matter? She's the one who has been raising you, hasn't she? She loves you, protects you, takes care of you... And of course it would give some insecurity but in the end, as I told you yesterday, she's the one who chose you. She loves you, and even though sometimes you might feel you aren't trying hard enough for her, or that you might disappoint her somehow, she still encourages you. Sometimes with kindness, sometimes with a firm hand. But you know that, in the end, she's doing everything that's best for you and your family and she does it because she cares about you. So what does it matter if you share the same blood or don't? What matters is how you feel about her and...if she loves you... Isn't that enough?"

"Miss... Magda?"

The woman stopped her explanation —more of a rant— as she heard the soft murmur of the other's voice and felt a warm hand placed over her own. She looked up in confusion at Balfey's surprisingly tender gesture, but she didn't pull back. Even as he raised his other hand cupping her cheek, moving his thumb softly under her lower lash, cleaning a tear she never realised she was spilling. She could feel her heart beating faster, but not in an uncomfortable way. As if a small sparkling candle had been lit inside her, warming her heart softly.

But then she realised what had just happened and pulled away coughing brusquely.  
Balfey's face went from concern, to understanding, and to something harder to identify. He sighed softly, glancing sideways towards the nearest flowers, searching for words that wouldn't upset her.

"I get it. If she loves me and sees me as his son, and I love her and consider her my mother, the truth isn't really that important... Is that it? You... You really understand it... don't you?"

She didn't know what she was supposed to say now. Even though his voice was tentative and unsure and his eyes showed more concern than anything else, she felt like a deer caught in a fire. No, more like a deer caught between a person and a cliff. She knew she couldn't go back, but she wasn't sure what to expect from the man in front of her. That was the one thing she had to keep from everyone else. No matter how close they got, they could never find out who she really was...

"No, no, no. It was just... a guess I suppose. How could I understand that?"

She tried to laugh it off lightly, but she knew it as soon as she heard the sigh coming out from his lips. She knew she had been caught, and there was no way to get out.

"Balfey listen, I... I can explain... Really... I..."

"Don't worry. You don't have to."

He cut her short while standing up from the table and approached her slowly, placing a firm hand on her shoulder during a few seconds before letting go. Her breath stopped for a moment.

"Thank you for your advice Miss Ellenstein. I'll... See you at the next ball."

And as she saw him leave she suddenly realised she had never been the deer. His eyes, the moment he had said that last sentence, hadn't been cold at all. They had been filled with...pain. He would never hurt her. He had given her own opinions a meaning, he had listened to her, he had trusted her with his insecurities, he had protected her, he had given her his unconditional friendship and even his heart, he had made her feel safe and... Happy, even in the middle of all the chaos that was the noble life.

He wasn't just "a person", he was Balfey. The Real Gentleman Balfey. The cheerful childish boy who had once called her his teammate and his beloved. His Beautiful Miss Magda.

And yet, she hadn't been able to tell him the truth. Even when she knew the kind of problems he was dealing with. Even when that was the only thing he had ever asked from her.

_"I'm happy to know the truth. So, from now on, answer with your heart, alright? At least with me. Please?"_

That was the only thing he asked of her, the truth. And she hadn't been able to grant that. And not even because she was really afraid of him, it was just that she had gotten so used to lying... It was easier than being honest. But in trying to hide the truth, she had hurt the person that trusted in her the most, and now she had no chance but to watch him leave.

Just as she had actually started to feel the little sparkles of that thing called love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... but it's also the colour of ambivalence, contradictions and of course, misunderstandings.


End file.
